Studies in LiteratureH.C. Turnbull, jr., 1870 - 158 Seiten |
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Seite 16
... critic's brain . Mr. PRENTICE wrote poetry because he loved it , because he could not help it , and because it was one of the elements in which he lived , and moved , and breathed , and had his being . It was so deeply interwoven in his ...
... critic's brain . Mr. PRENTICE wrote poetry because he loved it , because he could not help it , and because it was one of the elements in which he lived , and moved , and breathed , and had his being . It was so deeply interwoven in his ...
Seite 27
... criticism , but on that account it is only the more read and praised . We do not see how it can be regarded in any other light than an attack upon society , upon virtue and religion . It depicts glowingly almost every species of ...
... criticism , but on that account it is only the more read and praised . We do not see how it can be regarded in any other light than an attack upon society , upon virtue and religion . It depicts glowingly almost every species of ...
Seite 47
... critics and commentators have wholly failed to trace the origin of the plot to any other source . The poet Collins , however , claimed that it was founded upon a romance en- titled " Amelia and Isabella , " printed in the Italian ...
... critics and commentators have wholly failed to trace the origin of the plot to any other source . The poet Collins , however , claimed that it was founded upon a romance en- titled " Amelia and Isabella , " printed in the Italian ...
Seite 59
... criticism , and the traditions of the stage , EDWIN BOOTH , the son of Junius Brutus , has surpassed in the power and brilliancy of his genius all the great actors who have gone before him . He seems to have taken the lovers of the ...
... criticism , and the traditions of the stage , EDWIN BOOTH , the son of Junius Brutus , has surpassed in the power and brilliancy of his genius all the great actors who have gone before him . He seems to have taken the lovers of the ...
Seite 76
... Critics unite in the opinion that it was written at a period when the author's mind was in the fulness of its power . Coleridge says : " The highest praise , or rather form of praise , of this play which I can offer in my own mind , is ...
... Critics unite in the opinion that it was written at a period when the author's mind was in the fulness of its power . Coleridge says : " The highest praise , or rather form of praise , of this play which I can offer in my own mind , is ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
acting actor admiration affection afterward ANTONY autographs bear beauty BELISARIUS Booth breath called Cawdor character charms CLEOPATRA critics CYMBELINE dark distinguished drama dreams drunk EDWIN BOOTH endeavored everything exclaimed expression exquisite eyes fancy feel female fury GARRICK Gelimer gender genius German giaour Giletta give grace Gypsie Laddie Gypsy HAMLET Heady heard heart Heaven hope husband imagination JANAUSCHEK John John Faa Julius Cæsar King Lady Macbeth language letter lived look Lord Lord Byron Louisville marriage murder nature never Ophelia original palace passion Penn person play poems poet poetry portrayed PRENTICE PRENTICE's purity Richard Henry Lee says SCARLET LETTER scene seems seen SHAKSPEARE Shakspeare's SHELLEY sleep soul speech spirit splendor story sweet thee things thou thought tion truth utmost VANITY FAIR VATHEK verbs virtue weird sisters wife woman wonderful words write written wrote
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 67 - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
Seite 50 - Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on ; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
Seite 150 - Hell is murky! — Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? — Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that? Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? — What, will these hands ne'er be clean ? — No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.
Seite 7 - Just to think of it sets me shivering from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet.
Seite 51 - Hence, bashful cunning ! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! I am your wife, if you will marry me ; If not, I'll die your maid : to be your fellow You may deny me ; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no.
Seite 118 - IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree : Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round : And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
Seite 64 - Sleep no more ! Macbeth does murder sleep,' the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M. What do you mean ? Macb. Still it cried ' Sleep no more ! ' to all the house : ' Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more ; Macbeth shall sleep no more.
Seite 149 - Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters ; — to beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue : look like th' innocent flower, But be the serpent under't.
Seite 149 - The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry 'Hold, hold!
Seite 119 - Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware ! His flashing eyes, his floating hair, Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.